The Hollow Lord does not hoard gold—he hoards time. The city of Veymara moves in slow agony. Its people drained of hours, days, even years, while his palace glows with stolen moments, fueling his eternal youth. Who will stand against this theft of life itself?
The Hollow Lord does not hoard gold—he hoards time. The city of Veymara moves in slow agony. Its people drained of hours, days, even years, while his palace glows with stolen moments, fueling his eternal youth. Who will stand against this theft of life itself?